


The Price of Magic

by lrceleste



Series: DA Kink Meme Fills [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Background Josephine/Lavellan, Background Sera/Dagna - Freeform, Blind!Dorian, Blood, Blood Magic, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrceleste/pseuds/lrceleste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Thedas powerful mages have to pay for their abilities. In Tevinter it is expected amongst the Alti that a child will be born with disability, those without are not worth considering. Dorian paid with his sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [For the Kink meme prompt.](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15866.html?thread=59945978#t59945978)

When Dorian Pavus had been born, the healer had turned to his parents with a sigh, stating, “The child appears to be in good health.”

His mother had almost cried. Word had spread to competitors of the Pavus house through rumour and word of mouth, purely so they could mock and preen. A _healthy_ child, how unfortunate!

In Tevinter such news was not the blessing any parent would hope for, it was very near a curse. Soporati prayed for a child born with disability, for the simple hope that one day magic may manifest, and for the Alti, it was not a want but a requirement, in some strange twist; it was the disabled children who were cherished, their healthy cousins left in dark streets.

After all magic did not come free to any, and the more power, the greater the cost.

Dorian paid slowly.

He learned to walk, and to speak, at a perfectly normal age, and read perhaps younger than one would expect, which much to his parent’s dismay ruled out most forms of learning difficulty, and as Dorian continued to develop through his early years, he proved most ideas of mental disability impossible or unlikely.

He was still taken to gatherings, flaunted as if he were certainly a mage, even though he was certain his parents only kept him that day in the hope that something would manifest in his younger years, like his mother. They were probably wishing they hadn’t.

“Dorian stand up straight.” His mother hissed to the four year old, she certainly acted as if she wished to leave him. Instead she gripped his hand with quick jerky movements, fingers slightly too tight. “Now sort out your robes, and stop rubbing your eyes, you’ll make them red.”

“There’s something in them mama.”

“It’ll be a lash, now stop fussing, and tell me what must you do?”

“Stay quiet. But mama-”

“No, you’re supposed to be quiet, let them think there’s something wrong in that little head of yours.”

Dorian remained as silent as a four year old could for the evening, his eyes trained on the ground, it was for this reason that he did not mention later in the night when he still couldn’t shift the lashes in both of his eyes. Perhaps if he had been insistent, he could have convinced his mother, and there may not have been a price for his magic.

But there was.

It began with the clouds in the corner of his vision, and he ignored them, as he had been told to ignore many things, but months passed and his vision did not heal. It was his father who noticed the shift, the fact that Dorian’s reading was less enthusiastic.

“Is something the matter my boy.”

Dorian was silent for a moment as he pushed the book away, before finally answering, “It hurts when I read for too long. My eyes are itchy.”

“Well you certainly do read a lot. Perhaps it is time for you to sleep, give those eyes a rest.” His father suggested, and Dorian had nodded, placing the book away.

“Will you tuck me in papa?” His father had looked to his study, before nodding and ushering the boy towards his room. With one hand on Dorian’s back, his father’s other hand gripped his staff, counteracting the balance.

Upon entering the room the candles immediately jumped to life and Dorian giggled, he always loved seeing magic burst into existence from seemingly nothing at all, he loved the tingling it left in his bones. “Can I try?!”

His father gave him a patient smile, the same he gave to him every time he asked that question. “You’re too young for your magic to manifest. Only truly great mages have ever discovered their magic at such an age, not even the Archon had his magic at your age.”

“Aw, but when will _I_ get _my_ magic?”

His father looked down at him for a moment, still leaning against his staff as Dorian climbed into bed and pulled the cover over his lap. Then a sigh escaped him, and he sat on the edge of the bed, holding forth a candle stick he extinguished the flame.

“Don’t lose that enthusiasm.” Dorian took the candle stick, one small hand held over the wick, face creased in concentration. “Dorian, what did you say about your eyes?”

Dorian was about to answer, about to break away from the candle stick when he felt to tingling in his bones, in the tips of his fingers, and it suddenly burst to life under his tiny palms. “No fair papa, I swear I almost had it!”

But when Dorian looked up at his father, he had never seen the man express such confusion, such shock, all of his emotions usually so carefully schooled. “I did nothing. It appears you have the beginnings of a great mage tucked inside you.”

“Really?!”

“Would you care to do it again?” His father asked as he ran his hand over the flame, extinguishing it.

It happened faster this time, now that he knew, the small fire jumping to life beneath his palm, and when  he looked up his father smiled down at him in a way Dorian was certain he’d never seen before.  His father extinguished the flame yet again, before pulling the sheets up, and instructing Dorian that he must not attempt magic again without supervision. They would show his mother in the morning.

It seemed that from that moment on, which ever greater power governed them, had decided his price must be paid. Showing his mother was postponed when Dorian woke with the cloud distorting his vision, when he blinked it did not leave, no matter where he looked it followed. He had to wonder about the true power of mages, for when his mother arrived to view his magic he told her about the difficulty seeing had become, only this time she believed him.

The healer confirmed it soon after, his eyesight was deteriorating. Even then some small amount of vision remained for years, and then all he could see was light.

Then he supposed he had paid in full, when eventually not even the light could reach his eyes.

-

It was many years later that he scrambled towards the gates of Haven. He had never crossed these lands before, and almost every rock under foot seemed to be the element of his undoing. But then he felt the wood under fingers, the blessed entry to safety, but as he pressed on the gates they held fast.

Had it not been for years of practise he would most likely have missed the shuffle of a foot behind him, and the smell of lyrium, the magic that filled the air, the disturbance in the fade. Venatori. With all the grace of a far less powerful mage, he turned on his heel, striking one of the bastards with the end of his staff.

Far closer than initially thought. Never mind. With a push he sent out a wall of fire, before throwing up a barrier, feeling the disturbances in his own magic the twisting of the fade, the sound of their cries. With some sense of direction he threw a fireball, grinning when he heard it connecting.

A blow hit his barrier, to the right, he sent back an arch of lighting, hearing the crackle of it as it connected with, one, two, three targets, and then their bodies hit the floor.

“If someone could open this, I’d appreciate it!” The final blow he had not expected, but this was not a mage, the axe slammed against the remnants of his barrier, so hard that it sent him flying. With fingers crossed Dorian swiped out with his staff, feeling it connect, and the Venatori hit the ground, for final measure he sent a fireball their way.

When he finally heard the gates open, he was picking himself up.

“I need to speak to this ‘herald’, or a guard, anyone that carry a message.”

“You have both.” A small voice answered. Female, human or elf from the sound of it.

“Good. I’m here to warn you, but fashionably late I’m afraid.”

When he was finally on his feet, he swayed; damn he shouldn’t have used so much mana. The hands that caught him were strong, plated in armour, the smell of lyrium clung to them. A Templar, and certainly not the small voice that had answered him.

“Are you alright?” Ah, there it was, a voice to match the arms.

“Mite exhausted, don’t mind me.” He righted himself, leaning on his staff. “My name is Dorian Pavus, and I bring grave news from Redcliffe- an army of rebel mages, right behind me.”

“Mages?” Another man asked. “Surely there’s little threat from an army of circleless mages.”

“Oh, you think so? Because I certainly didn’t just take out several men whilst I was waiting for you to let me in? These mages aren’t to be underestimated, they’re under the command of the Venatori, led by a woman named Calpernia, and in service to something called ‘the Elder One’. They were already marching on Haven, I risked my life to get here first.”

“Cullen, give me a plan! Anything!” The woman demanded.

The man who had caught him, Cullen evidently, replied, “Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle.”

Dorian didn’t stay long to hear the rousing speech; instead he was ushered inside by a soldier, whom he promptly shook off. He knew how to navigate without some imbecile walking him slowly up the steps, he’d been doing so for twenty-five years without their assistance.

“Get to the chantry, you’ll be safe there.” The man had instructed, before running to join the fray. Admittedly a general whereabouts of the chantry would have been useful.

Another hand had grabbed his and he’d been about to physically throw them off, when the body connected to said arm sunk to the floor. Footsteps approaching and the body beside him spoke, “Venatori behind you.”

Dorian turned, hurling a ball of fire, feeling the heat burst far too close. In a battle like this it was always too hard to discern friend from foe.

“Thank you. Are you injured?” Dorian asked, bending to where the man’s hand intended to drag him.

“I took down one of the blighted things, but the bastard got me.”

“How about a deal, you help me find the chantry, I’ll get you there?” The man had remained silent. “An answer would be helpful.”

“I nodded.” The man insisted.

“Not much help, if I can’t see a building I think your nodding might also be an issue.” Dorian had complained as he’d helped the man stand, propping an arm around him and holding him steady as they took steps forward. He’d done it for his father once before.

“I’m the chancellor here; may I have your name blind mage?”

 “Dorian Pavus.”

“You’re Tevinter, why aren’t you aiding them?”

“We had a difference of opinions.” He answered sourly.

-

Haven had fallen, and for a short time it was believed that the inquisitor had too.

“Why is it always so bloody cold here?” Dorian asked, hugging himself in an attempt to stay warm.

“Duh, can’t you see the snow everywhere?”

Admittedly Dorian had never once seen real snow, he’d been constantly confused by the crunching underfoot since he’d come this far south, even though it did make it far easier to detect others. Instead of explaining as much he turned to the voice in question and stated, “I’m blind.”

He could very well imagine the expression that joined the stunned silence.

“Oh. Well I’m Sera!” The voice said loudly, enunciating each word carefully with an accent that made it sound as though she wasn’t enunciating at all.

“I said I’m blind, not deaf.”

“Well yeah, if you were deaf, there’d be no point in tellin’ ya. Wouldn’t be able to hear me.” Dorian hoped that the roll of his eyes was clear, about the only thing they were good for after all.

“I’m Dorian by the way. Dorian Pavus.”

“Sounds posh, you a noble or some shite?”

Dorian smiled. “You could say that. Could you perhaps talk me through everyone gathered, I haven’t received any proper introductions.”

“What you mean like the inner circle?”

“Yes, those closest to the inquisitor.”

“Well, they’re a bunch of weirdos for a start. You’ve got Varric, short hairy dwarf, wrote a few books, or something.”

“Varric Tethras?”

Sera blew raspberries. “Dunno, probably. He’s in love with his crossbow, not as good with it as me and my bow though. Then you got creepy shite, he’s like a demon or some crap.”

“Pardon?!”

“Yeah, it says it’s called Cole, really weird. Then you’ve got Cass, or y’know ‘Seeker Pentaghast’, apparently she started this whole thing, not my type, the whole stern warrior thing, but phwoar.” Dorian blanched for a moment. “You got a problem with me liking the ladies?!”

“I- No! Just surprised you state it so openly.”

“How else are you supposed to pick girls up?” She asked before continuing normally. “Next you got Blackwall, big hairy Warden. Don’t know much else about him really… Then there’s Bull, you should see-… Just trust me on this, he’s fucking huge. Makes me think about their women y’know, with the horns and-”

“Horns?! He’s Qunari?”

“Yeah… Oh wait, you guys have an argument going on.”

“Argument? Try ‘war’.”

“Bull’s a softy though, likes pink doesn’t talk about the Qun unless you ask. Last up it’s the _mages_ …” She groaned.

“You realise I’m a mage.”

“You are? Shite. I hoped you were a normal blind person. You know after I saw you dragging the cleric along, even if he was an arse-biscuit.”

Dorian laughed. “Well you’re certainly a first. The staff is usually a dead giveaway.”

“Yeah but you ever seen a blind person without a stick?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever _seen_ a blind person.” Dorian chuckled.

“But what about when you… Right, yeah. So, does that mean you’ve got a lot of magic? Because I knew this kid with no arms and he had so much he could make like, ghost arms. Dead freaky it was.”

“Yes I’m perfectly skilled, if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t make ghost eyes however.”

“Well that sucks nug shit. Better keep an eye on you.” Dorian laughed at the bluntness of the statement. “The other mages Madame de Fer, or Viv, yeah, _right bitch_ , real scary when she’s fighting though, can’t walk proper but she can disappear and reappear nowhere near. And Solas… I don’t think there’s anything wrong with him, well I mean like normal mage stuff. He’s weird though, into all of that elfy shite.”

“And the Herald?”

“Vhen? Well, she’s a mage too, and she’s into all that elfy crap, both of them. I hate it all, constantly harping on about how great the elves where, elfy shite this, elf shite that. Hate elves.”

“You can’t hate an entire culture.”

“I can, I will, I am. So there.”

Dorian had dismissed Sera for a time, but he came to understand the prejudice a little more sometime later, when he finally spoke to Varric (and it was definitely _the_ Varric Tethras.)

“You remind me of a friend.” Varric commented as he approached slowly.

“A charming charismatic mage with a lack of sight.” He asked closing his book.

“You definitely remind me of a friend.”

“I’ve read your book.” Dorian stated. “It was pleasant to see a southern mage depicted like that. Tevinter makes us all sound so strong, the Chantry the opposite. You made him sound real.”

“He was. If I’d messed up his character he’d have had my head, couldn’t have read it himself, but Isabela would have spilled the beans. Which leads to the question, how have you read my book?”

Dorian smiled. “I have my ways.”

“You’re going to be trouble aren’t you?”

“Me, trouble? Perish the thought.” Dorian replied with a grin.

“Have you met the others?”

“Sera’s the only one who’s spoken to me so far.”

“Maker help us all. The blind mage from Tevinter and the delinquent city elf. ” Varric sighed.

“City elf?! I’m sorry do you mean Sera’s an elf?”

Varric was quiet for a moment before answering, “Yes. I suppose you wouldn’t know without touching up her ears.”

“I just assumed… She said she hated elves, my last assumption would be that she was one.”

“She’s a funny one, I’ll admit it. But she’s not the only one… I recommend you get to know everyone. Might be walking with them a while. I’ll warn you though, they’re a bunch.”

“Will everyone warn me? I’m rather intrigued what the rest have to offer after a famous dwarven author and an elf-hating city elf.”

-

Vivienne was the first he actively sought out, and Sera’s description was shockingly accurate. He could hear the familiar step _thunk_ that accompanied his father, this mage too used her staff to aid her walking, but her footsteps sounded steady. She seemed by leagues the most normal of the group, like any politician back home, grasping for power.

“Madame de Fer?”

“Ah, you must be the Tevinter. I’ve been meaning to meet you.”

“And I believe you’re the Official mage to the Orlesian Imperial Court? That sounds exciting.” Dorian only added a hint of sarcasm.

“It as an esteemed position, darling, that many mages would envy.”

“Yes, being paraded about like an exotic peacock does sound better than running from ever ‘helpful‘ Templars.”

“Better an exotic peacock than one Tevinter rat amongst many.”

“Oh! A dig at my homeland! This should be fun.”

-

He met most of the ‘inner circle’ as they were referred to before they arrived at Skyhold. All but two members, the mysterious elven mage, and the Qunari.  He met the elf soon enough, as he discovered they had decided to situate themselves in the same tower, the one that housed the library. Dorian had discovered it on one of his walks, it was always good to get a feel for the grounds, and it would make it less likely for him to remain in his room at all hours.

He didn’t have the opportunity to meet the Iron Bull until his first mission out of Skyhold, which admittedly took far longer than he’d have hoped for. It seemed some were reluctant to have a blind mage fight alongside them. In the end, apparently, it had come down to Varric actually demanding to be there, and Bull, tentatively agreeing.

They’d been traveling towards Crestwood when they’d been stopped by bandits. It had given Dorian the chance to prove himself before the real fights began. And prove himself he sure did, if the low whistle once he’d taken down his final target was anything to go by. He couldn’t be sure who had emitted the sound.

Thus far he hadn’t heard the Bull utter more than three words strung together and he had to wonder if the stereotypes were true.

It was whilst they were camping on their first night of travel that he finally got to meet the Iron Bull, formally.

“The Vint’s got a fancy style, there’s a lot of power behind that dancing he does. Really impractical, but god damn pretty.”

“You realise I’m not deaf.” Dorian called to the voice behind him. It was the longest sentence he’d heard the ox pull together thus far.

“Who says you weren’t meant to hear?”

“Why don’t you speak to my face then, instead of behind my back?”

There was a pause, metal shifting, then Dorian heard the footsteps as they approached, coming to step before him. There was silence for a moment before he felt the presence shockingly close to his face, and then the Iron Bull spoke. “For a guy that can’t look in the mirror you always look damn pretty. Shame you leave your flanks open though.”

“I’ll admit I’ve heard many better chat up lines.” He joked without humour. “So if that was an attempt at flattery, I am already aware of my beauty.”

“Tell that to your blush.” Dorian scowled at the man. “Plus, it seemed to work well enough when you let me buy you that drink last week.”

“That… Maker that was you?!”

A low chuckle rumbled, then Dorian felt a large, no positively huge hand wrap around his own, shaking it. “The Iron Bull.”

Dorian was stunned into silence for a moment, the man who’d flattered him so thoroughly he’d been forced to submit to a free drink, and then left without so much as a proposal of sex. That man had been Qunari, that man had been The Iron Bull and Dorian hadn’t a clue.

Dorian mused, “The Iron Bull, I’m glad you finally decided to introduce yourself.”

-

They were definitely all _something_. The inquisitor herself was a mage, as of yet Dorian hadn’t been able to put a finger on her ailment, he could often hear her coughing, and after some time she could develop a limp. After his first mission, Vhen had often opted to take him on missions, having another mage there was always useful, especially when she seemed to tire so easily, and the elf didn’t seem too fond of Vivienne or (despite Sera’s comments) Solas.

Being out of Skyhold was of course a positive, the negative being that over time Vhen’s preferred team became Dorian, Sera when she finally became comfortable fighting beside Dorian… And the Bull. Which Sera found positively hilarious. Especially since the Bull had taken to flirting horrendously with Dorian at every given opportunity. Dorian had decided it was the Qunari’s way of torturing him.

Of course Dorian had already assumed as much would be the case. Unfortunately Bull swatted away any attempt Dorian made at turning this spat they had into the arguments it surely should be. Despite his upbringing he’d never been fond of veiled insults and scheming.

“That staffs in pretty good shape, Dorian. Do you spend a lot of time polishing it?” For a while Dorian could only respond with a groan.

“I hope it doesn’t bother you, Iron Bull, travelling alongside a ‘Vint’.”

“That what you are? You people all kind of look the same to me.” Dorian had gritted his teeth and continued.

“I’m also a mage. Would you prefer me bound and leashed, that is how your kind deal with us, is it not?”

“Hey, I’d buy you dinner first.”

“ _Really?!_ No problems at all with a ‘Vint’ fighting behind you?”

“It’s just too bad you can’t enjoy the view.”

“A shame, I’m sure.” Dorian had muttered sarcastically.

-

After a time he became something he’d tentatively call friends with Sera and the Inquisitor. And yes, dammit, The Iron Bull too. As stupid as it all sounded, he was almost starting to feel at home with the inquisition.

That was probably why it came as such a shock when the letter from ‘home’ arrived. The letter from his father.

“Would you like me to read it to you?” Vhen had asked.

“Summarise it.” He’d instructed, pacing the small space in his alcove, his foot occasionally clipping one of the many towers of books.

“He says he wants you to meet with a retainer in Redcliffe.”

Dorian paused for a moment waiting for the rest. “And? Come now, this is my father, surely that isn’t all he wrote, didn’t he mention how this is what’s best for me, about how much trouble I am, about how the thought of me in the South positively chills him?”

“He… Yeah, there was something along those lines.”

“I’m willing to bet this ‘retainer’ is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter.”

“You think your father would do that?!”

“Well, no… But I wouldn’t put it past him. Let’s meet this so-called family retainer. If it’s a trap, we escape and kill everyone, you’re good at that.”

It had taken them a little over two days to travel to Redcliffe, Vhen had insisted they go immediately, and Dorian didn’t plan to argue. What he hadn’t planned for was the moment they opened the door to an eerily silent bar, devoid of patrons. So quiet, he could hear the familiar, step _thunk_ echoing through the tavern. He didn’t need to hear his name; his mouth had already gone dry with the prospect.

“Dorian.”

“Father.” Dorian didn’t give him the grace of turning remotely in his direction.  “So the whole story about the family retainer was just… What? A smoke screen?”

“I apologise for the deception inquisitor, I never meant for you to be involved.”

“Of course not. Magister Pavus couldn’t come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread inquisitor. What would people think? What exactly is this father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?”

“This is how he has always been.” His father sighed.

Dorian laughed, low and humourless, as he turned to his father. “All these years, and you still treat me like I’m not in the room. So come on, you tricked me here. Talk to me, let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.”

“Dorian, there’s no need to-”

“I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.”

“Oh, is that what this about? I mean, I can’t judge, I’ve been with enough women in my life.” Vhen laughed quietly.

 Dorian gave a short bark of a life. “I’m aware; you and Josephine aren’t so subtle in your affections. I heard about the duel.”

“This display is uncalled for.” His father stated.

“No, it is called for. You called for it by luring me here.” Dorian argued.

“This is not what I wanted.”

“I was never what you wanted, or had you forgotten?”

“That’s what all this is about, who you take to bed?!” Vhen interrupted.

“That’s not all this is about.” Dorian growled.

“Please, Dorian, if you’d only listen to me.”

“Why so you can spout more convenient lies? _He_ taught me to hate blood magic. The resort of the weak mind. But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend? You tried to _change_ me.”

“I only wanted what was best for you.”

“You wanted what was best for you, for your fucking legacy! Anything for that!” Dorian thought for a moment, that had he known exactly where his father was standing, he might well have thrown a punch, or a fireball.

Instead he stepped forward, resting his hand against the bar. A small hand pressed against his arm, squeezing lightly.  “I think it’s time we went home.”

Dorian stepped away from the bar. “Yes, I agree.”

He could hear Sera shuffling as they left the inn. She had a distinct sound, the clattering of arrows in her quiver, the buzzing of those maker damned grenades.

“What happened in there? We were expecting to hear a fight and run on in to help.” Bull asked.

“There wasn’t any fighting. “ Dorian explained. “Now, let’s find somewhere else I can get horrendously drunk.”

There wasn’t another tavern for quite some time, and by then the desire had begun to flutter away, leaving just the bitterness, they carried on instead, and soon set up camp for the night. Dorian wasn’t sure how long he’d sat on the rock; he imagined it was overlooking something or other, a convenient placement, not a coincidence. But after some time a quiet shuffling approached.

“I’m sorry Vhen, I don’t particularly feel like talking about it right now.”

“Good job I ain’t Vhen then.” Dorian smiled at Sera’s unmistakable dialect. “Might not be up for chat, but I got booze.”

“That- That sounds perfect.”

“I come with it mind you.”

“Even better.” Dorian laughed, and found he was being sincere.

Sera handed him the bottle, and the smell hit him as soon as he uncorked it, taking a sip he nearly choked on the drink. The whiskey was certainly something, and that something was not entirely whiskey.

“Where did you get this?” Dorian asked when the choking had eased.

“Dunno, found it a while back.”

“You simply found a bottle full of an ominous liquid and decided to keep it?”

“Hey, it came in handy didn’t it?”

They sat in silence for a while. Dorian taking occasional mouthfuls from the bottle.

“So,” Sera began. “What do you see right now?”

“Sera… Now, I’m certain I’ve told you before.”

“Yeah, your eyes don’t work, I can see that. But like, in your head, what does everything look like?”

“Well, when I was very young I could see. I saw pictures of Ferelden. Rolling green hills, little cottages. Druffalo. “

“Not far off. There’s no-… shit there’s smoke over there. Forget that. Maybe that’s your cottage, bet they have drufallos.” Dorian smiled. “But, what do you think we look like. Like, what colour hair do I have?”

Dorian pondered it for a moment. “Vhen is a brunette, the Bull obviously has white hair, and you, are a blonde.”

“Well, shite, two out of three ain’t bad.”

“Who did I misjudge?”

“Bull. No hair there.”

“Oh. No I didn’t imagine that.”

“Bull was worried about you y’know, but he didn’t want to mess anything up, he knows you can be touchy round him. Thought it best to give you space.”

“But you don’t harbour that same appreciation of self-preservation?”

“Not even sure what that means… You know, there was this guy I knew yeah, like you, not magic-y, just couldn’t see shite. He liked to touch people up, helped him ‘see’ them… Do you- I mean do you wanna… Just the face though.”

“I suppose. I’ve never tried it.”

“Right, well then give me your hand. Don’t want you poking me in the eye.”

Dorian held out his palm and Sera took it hesitantly, pressing his fingertips against her cheek. He immediately moved his fingers forward, stroking past hair, running over the pointed ear he still somewhat doubted. Sera was uncharacteristically quite as he ran his fingers over her features. He moved over her hair, and was unsurprised to find the uneven cut, like she’d taken to it with a blunt knife.

“Kaffas!” Dorian cried, and Sera pulled away sharply.

“What?!”

“Well, it feels like something crawled onto your head and died.”

“What?! I don’t-… Oh ha _ha_.” She said sarcastically, shouting over the sound of Dorian’s laughter. “That’s my hair you shit!”

One hard push and he was falling off the rock. “I call foul play! Picking on the poor, innocent and blind.”

“Nothing poor and innocent about you!” Sera argued, adding a raspberry for extra effect. “You going to bed sometime soon or you hoping Bull’ll carry you tomorrow?”

“No!” He exclaimed much to Sera’s delight. “I’ll go to sleep soon.”

“Alright, well I’m off. Have fun in the grass you weirdo. Don’t get lost on the way back to camp.”

“Before you go,” Sera groaned but Dorian continued, “Are the stars out tonight?”

Sera hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, they’re all up there.”

“Thank you Sera.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was rather busy when I posted this, so I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments, you goes make me want to keep writing so much!

Even though Dorian had met the entirety of the inner circle, he soon came to learn that there were other ‘characters’ within the inquisitor’s folds that certainly couldn’t be forgotten. Least of all the completely crazy, yet utterly magnificent dwarf that practically lived in the Undercroft.

The moment she’d spotted Dorian he’d been completely aware by the gasp she’d made, before she’d tugged him over to her latest experiment, and asked for his assistance. For someone whose body didn’t contain a single speck of magic, he had to admit he was thoroughly impressed by the magic she could certainly create.

Introductions came after he’d assisted, and she’d had to use her entire weight to knock him out of the way of the exploding crystal he couldn’t see. He found that making friends with her would be easy.

The second ‘character’ he encountered was not so easily swayed by his charm, and he was certainly not swayed by theirs. A Soporatus, who took an immediate disliking to Dorian, but he had expected as much when he’d heard the accent.

Dorian had been content to live and let live, and avoid the man completely, but when one spends as much time in a bar as Dorian (and as this Aclassi it seemed) you tend to hear things. And Dorian over heard many a time the Tevinter’s name was uttered in the same breath as the Iron Bull’s. It wasn’t long before the reason became apparent. In the mercenary group the Bull was so proud of, this man was his second in command.

And venhedis, Dorian didn’t know what this feeling was, the feeling that so long as he was at quiet feud with this man he was somehow disappointing the Bull. And the weight in the pit of his stomach when he thought of that was something he couldn’t quite explain.

“Aclassi.” He began, knowing that his stride up to the table had no doubt been watched in its entirety. “Can I get you a drink?”

“A drink?” The surprise in his voice sounded genuine. “What’s an Altus buying me a drink for? I thought you only did that when you were planting poison.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m fresh out of poison. I simply thought that being the only Tevinters here we should be sticking together, not giving each other the cold shoulder.”

“We’re different types of Tevinter.”

“But we’re all we have down here.”

The man pondered for a moment. “Alright, if you say you’re buying.”

He couldn’t quite remember when they’d accidentally slipped into Tevene, probably about the time he stood to buy another drink and Krem jumped up to catch him even though he wasn’t so steady himself. It was a different type of Tevene, but they could piece it together well enough.

That night alone was not enough to change Cremisius’ opinion, but Dorian believed that it certainly helped, because the next time Dorian stepped into the Herald’s rest, colliding with a Templar who couldn’t possibly have given less of a shit about his inability to see him approaching, a vaguely familiar voice jumped to chastise the soldier. And then swiftly throw a punch if the sound of the bar was anything to go by.

Eventually the sound died down and the Templar was pulled out by his friends.

“Ah, thank you, but I can handle myself.” Dorian stated.

“Don’t worry it wasn’t for you, I was just looking for a reason.” Cremisius answered.

“To punch anyone, or that man in particular?”

“Just him, he probably bumped you because you’re Tevinter and… Y’know.”

“A mage?” Dorian offered.

“Um, no. Probably didn’t help, but I mean because you’re… _scultimidonus._ ”

Dorian turned sharply towards Krem, purely for effect of course. “Well that’s certainly one way of putting it. How did you know, how did _he_ know?”

“Come on, it’s obvious.” Krem insisted.

“Is that the Soporati word for it then?”

“Yeah, posh Soporati. I mean we can be as bad you lot, but at least we’re not uptight.”

“I suppose that’s true… So what did he do to piss _you_ off?”

Cremisius never did answer the question, he pulled Dorian to the table and introduced him to the fabled Bull’s Chargers, and Dorian honestly had to wonder what the Bull was thinking when he picked his company, especially since Dorian now counted him as a friend. In all honesty, a blind runaway Tevinter Altus seemed one of the most ordinary of the group, besides Krem, and Dorian couldn’t quite understand what an ex-military Soporatus had in common with Bull’s band of misfits and runaways.

-

After that he was invited to a game of Wicked Grace, a game where Josephine argued it would be unfair for him, and Varric said he’d feel bad taking a blind man’s money, (what, Hawke was different.) And Bull, Bull just laughed and said he wouldn’t feel sorry at all, which Vhen chastised him for. Dorian just hoped the spy didn’t know his game, surely he couldn’t know it. At least he had the chargers hollering to distract him.

Dorian played it ‘blind’ for the first few rounds, and he could hear Josephine’s tiny noises of contemplation, she was starting to feel bad. Oh, he had to put her out of her misery.

“Lady Montilyet, can I ask a strange question?” Dorian asked.

“That would depend how strange?”

“Ah, I was simply wondering after how many times you’ve played with this deck?”

“Oh, I have not played many times myself, but they are an old deck. I can assure you they have not been tampered with.”

“Oh of course not, I wouldn’t accuse you of cheating.”

There was a reason he chose necromancy, a reason he convened with lingering spirits, a reason only old books would do, he’d once considered spirit healing, but Necromancy was far more revered amongst the upper echelons of the Imperium. Of course he couldn’t tell Solas all that, the man would have a fit. As he ran his thumb over the cards he heard the lingering memories on them, he’d spent long enough perfecting the magic that he could pinpoint exactly what he wanted to know.

Not the hand he wanted. But he upped his bet a little, a worthwhile loss.

The second hand was precisely what he needed, so he smiled and announced cheerfully. “You know, I’m feeling lucky. Ten royals!”

“Are you certain?” Cassandra asked hesitantly.

“Sure, why not?”

“You don’t think throwing your money away is a bad idea?” Bull added.

“Oh Maker not you too? Let me have my fun. Ten royals.”

“If he wants to throw his money away, I say let him. I’ve heard it can be rewarding and habit forming.” Cullen mocked, repeating Dorian’s earlier words.

“Thank you Commander!” Dorian enthused as he tossed his coins into the centre of the table.

Eventually the clinking of coins joined his own, another round went, some more bets added. And then hands were shown, Varric folding, then Bull showed his hand, then Cullen, Josephine sighing as she showed hers and announced the play to Dorian.

“Dorian, perhaps we should-” Varric started.

He threw his cards down, revelling in the silence for a moment, before innocently asking, “How did I do?”

Even though she hadn’t been a part of the game, Sera answered in a sort, “How the fuck d’ya do that?!”

“Dumb luck I suppose. Now who’s up for a drink?”

The night carried on in a way that Dorian would not have bet on, and he was certainly a gambling man. Several drinks later, and even Josephine had forgotten most of the formalities she had learnt as she laughed loudly at Vhen’s highly unlikely tale, before stifling her cackles.

“Mind if I steal that one?” Varric had asked.

Dorian had opened his mouth to comment and then there was a hand on his hip, an arm around his waist, a deep chuckle beside him. He stiffened, but the laughter around continued, only the chuckle beside him ended.

“You alright there big guy?”  Dorian didn’t reply, and then the hand was gone. “Sorry, read the signs wrong.”

“Yes… You did.” Dorian answered uncertainly.

But when that hand was gone, oh how he wished it was still there.

-

Things between he and the Bull changed somewhat after that night. Dorian tried to continue, but there was something that seemed oddly distant.

“So they’re the Charger’s and you’re the Bull. That’s clever.”

“Worked that out on your own, did ya?” Dorian recoiled a little. The Bull had been silent, whereas usually if Dorian wasn’t slinging something in his direction, the Bull would try to start it himself. “You gotta keep it simple, so the nobles get it. They pay us to fight, not to entertain at tea.”

“ _That_ I’d like to see.” Dorian laughed, but Bull didn’t join him, and the mage hoped the disappointment didn’t show on his face.

“We’re going to stop and make camp guys, Sera and I will go hunting, you set up a fire.” Vhen instructed, before the two elves disappeared into the trees.

As soon as Dorian could no longer hear their footsteps he spoke clearly, unsure of where the Qunari had stopped.

“Looks like it’s getting wet out, you might want to hike your skirt up mage-boy.”

“Bull, do we have a problem?!” Dorian asked.

“Nope, not unless you have a problem.”

“Well then how come ever since you- you had your hand on my hip, you’ve been acting like some animal, silent up to now except for your grunting?”

“You like it.” Bull insisted.

“What, you standing there huffing like some beast of burden, no thought save conquest?!”

And then Dorian knew where Bull was, he could feel the warm presence next to him, crowding over him. He could have stepped away, he should have. He didn’t.

“That’s right. My big muscled hands could tear those robes off while you struggled, helpless in my grip. I’d pin you down, and as you gripped my horns; I. _Would._ Conquer. You.”

His answer was far slower than he intended, his step back still none existent. “Uh, what?”

“Oh.”

He was thankful when Bull stepped away; for he wasn’t certain if his legs were prepared to function at all correctly, and he didn’t rightly trust himself to step back under his own power. The heat was gone, the presence too, and Bull’s voice was paces away, like Dorian’s answer had sent him jumping backwards.

“Is that not where we’re going?”

“No. It was very much not.” Dorian answered; his mind so much clearer without the enveloping presence.

And then Bull was off, gathering firewood as if the conversation had never happened.

 

When he opened the tent flap later that evening an unexpected voice greeted him, he apologised and immediately turned to leave, before Vhen called, “Wait, we’re sharing tonight.”

“We’re sharing? But I usually share with… With Bull.”

“Yeah, listen you don’t have to explain yourselves, if something’s gone on between you two, y’know, I know it can be a little awkward working with a one night stand.”

“What?! I- He- Bull was not a one night stand!” Dorian argued.

“Oh. Oh… Creators, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the two of you were like that, if you want to be on separate teams it’s okay. I don’t want to make a break up harder.”

“Did the Bull tell you to say this?!”

“What, no! It’s just one of those rumours that gets round, and you two always seemed so close. I assumed…”

 “By whose estimations?! No forget it; they’re simply that, rumours. I have not fucked, and will never fuck the Iron Bull.”

“Oh.”

The tent hung in silence for the rest of the evening, as they both climbed into their bedrolls and attempted to sleep. Maker, he couldn’t wait to return to Skyhold.

-

He had been invited to drink at the Herald’s rest, not an uncommon occurrence, but on this occasion his intention was that he would avoid the Iron Bull as much as the bar would physically allow. There were plenty of others there to distract his attention, plenty of people he was calling friends on the regular now.

When Dorian entered he could hear Bull laughing at the far end of the table, a whole host of people separating the two, and Dorian took a seat between a giggling Dagna and a Seeker who always took a little while to loosen up, but was already trying her best to stifle her laughs. 

It was for all of these reasons combined that when Dorian came to look back on the evening he was filled with confusion as to how the situation had possibly devolved into what it had become.

Several drinks were passed into his hand, it seemed that on nights like this when the bar had a tendency to change its layout to accommodate the rabble, everyone was looking out for Dorian and his sobriety. So there really was no reason for him to get to his unsteady feet after one of those many drinks, definitely no reason for him to find himself at the far end of the table, certainly no reason for him to lean against the seat Sera had vacated so she could make lewd jokes to Dagna.

“So, the Iron Bull?” He began, his body swaying. The Bull didn’t answer for a moment and Dorian wondered if he’d picked the wrong seat.

“Yeah?”

“Can… can I touch your face? You see Sera said this thing, and I’ve been thinking, I don’t even know-…” Dorian asked drunkenly. Some laughs erupted around the table, and Dorian too chuckled at the stupidity of it all.

“Sure thing.” Bull answered without that laughter, even though his voice wasn’t exactly dead-pan, a hint of humour touching it.

Dorian took the seat then, the giggles continuing on in his inebriated state, Dorian reached out, feeling bare skin, not a face though. “W-What am I touching?”

“That would be my chest.”

Dorian pulled away with a cry that caused more laughter; evidently there were onlookers to the exchange. “Where’s your shirt?!”

“Y’know I’ve always wondered that!” Varric joked.

“I don’t wear one.” Bull answered.

“You mean ever? You mean all of the times we’ve spoken you’ve been half naked?!”

The rumbling laugh was as a good of an answer as any. “Yep, you might want to practise on that blush of yours.”

“I don’t blush!”

“Yeah you do!” Sera called across the table.

With a grumble Dorian asked, “So where is your face?”

His hand was taken by one far larger than his own, and placed against a cheek, Maker was Bull tall, and he’d felt hard muscle under his hand. Kaffas, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have a thing for men that could throw him over their shoulder. He brushed his thumb over the long stubble on Bull’s chin, anything to distract from the thoughts that were plaguing him.

“Talk me through it.” Bull instructed. “Tell me what you’re seeing.”

“Nothing, nothing, nothing. Oh… More nothing.”

“I mean in that head of yours.”

“Fine… the beard is a little of a surprise, and your face is more pointed than imagined. The scars, not surprising in the slightest.” His hands moved slowly, until his fingers brushed over what his mind could only liken to smooth wood. “Your horns?”

“You found ‘em.”

“They’re… exceptionally large, I don’t recall a Qunari with horns like this, which stick straight out like…” Dorian groaned loudly. “Like a Bull’s.”

“Bingo!” Bull exclaimed and the laughter around continued.

 “Oh… Oh, what’s that?”

“Figure it out.”

Dorian ran his fingers along the thin leather band; it ran over the Bull’s forehead, then down to his eye, where instead of brow and eye, Dorian found what he imagined must have been some gruesome scarring, and metal.

“An eye patch… You only have one eye. What happened?”

“Lost it saving some stupid Vint’s ass.”

“Didn’t ask you to jump in front of a flail.” A familiar voice called.

After a short silence Dorian dropped his hand and turned to the Bull, whispering, “I believe you owe me an apology.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry if I stepped out of line.”

“Ah, no. What you _should_ be sorry for was doing the whole muscled hands conquering me thing, then making me sleep with Vhen. Do you know what she said?! She thought you and I had a one night stand!”

“I mean that’s impossible.” Bull stated.

“I know-”

“You’d want more than one night for sure.”

“Ha! Confident in your abilities, much?” Dorian asked, his voice dipping low.

“Yeah.” He growled and Dorian froze, that warm presence so close.  “I’m just saying Dorian, you have this picture of the Qunari in your mind, you see us as this forbidden, terrible thing, and you’re inclined to _do_ the forbidden.”

“I- I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You think I don’t know? All I’m saying is, you ever want to explore that, my door’s always open.”

A part of Dorian wanted to turn and smile, ask, ‘is it open now’. Apparently that part of Dorian must have won over the more rational part of his brain, for in his drunken state he managed to slur something similar to the sultry question in his mind.

“It can be.” The Bull replied. “You can go to my room now, if you’re still there in ten minutes, we’ll talk about it, if you’re gone I won’t judge and I won’t bother you with it again.”

Dorian had smiled as he stood, bidding goodnight to everyone, he left the tavern. The Bull’s room was not hard to find, he had been there a couple of times purely to deliver messages. Now, when he pressed his hand against the door, it opened, which he hadn’t expected. Perhaps the whole, door is always open spiel was not a metaphor, the Bull’s door was truly always unlocked.

He stepped in slowly, running his fingers over the furniture, feeling his way through the room, before dropping onto the edge of the bed.

Ten minutes seemed like an age as he sat there, crossing and uncrossing his arms, waiting on the Bull’s return. He wasn’t sure how long he’d waited when the idea came to him. He rose from the bed, pulling away the buckles on his robes, a simple button that held them in place, he’d learned not to use some many buckles after one specific encounter, he couldn’t exactly throw away the whole aesthetic of it all however.

Standing naked for a moment in the centre of the Iron Bull’s room, he contemplated how best to position himself to show off all of his best assets. Most would think the position almost impossible, the way he draped himself over the bed, his ass facing the door and his profile still visible, eyes closed and small smirk.

Some more time passed, so much that he was starting to feel the buzz that the alcohol had supplied drifting away and Dorian was starting to worry if perhaps the Bull wouldn’t show. Wondering if perhaps… Maker this was a bad idea, what was he doing? Having sex with a friend, like he wasn’t aware how all of his sexual exploits usually ended. And he was going to try that with the Bull?

He needed to leave. He scrambled from the bed, feeling around the floor, finding his discarded pieces of clothing and pulling them on as quickly as he possibly could.

The door creaked and Bull breathed out a sigh from behind Dorian, still furiously trying to fasten his robes. He paused in his endeavours, turning slowly to face the Bull. “You’re here…”

“I take it you were just leaving?” Bull asked.

“I- This was a mistake.” Dorian cringed slightly as he said the word.

“Yeah. Go have a bunch of water and sleep off the drink.”

“You’re not- You don’t plan on asking me to stay?”

“Why would I? You’ve made it clear you don’t want to be here anymore. It can’t make you stay any longer, wouldn’t want to.”

“But I was flirting, I offered myself up. I…”

“Is that what usually happens when you change your mind?” Dorian didn’t answer the question, just continued to stare at the floor so he knew the Bull couldn’t meet his gaze. “Go to bed Dorian, don’t worry about it.”

“I will.” He replied pulling his robes shut and stepping through the door, and past the Iron Bull. “Good night Bull.”

“Good night.”  

The door clicked shut behind him, and Dorian shuffled back to his own room, the sound of the Herald’s rest still echoing throughout the keep. He fumbled with his lock for a moment before the door clicked open. He pushed it closed with his foot, his clothes coming away as he stepped towards the bed, falling into it. It didn’t take long for sleep to claim him.

-

The next morning Dorian was woken early, far too early for the incoming hangover and the morning wood he could feel brushing against the sheets. But still the pounding on his door continued. With a groan he hauled himself from the bed, dragging the sheets with him to cover himself.

“Dorian?!” Josephine’s voice said sharply when he opened the door slowly, the cold air nipping at the exposed parts of his skin. After clearing her throat she continued. “You have a fitting today, I believe you were informed.”

“Perhaps. I’m not in a state to remember, I wonder how you are, didn’t you and Vhen-”

“That!” She exclaimed purely to cut Dorian short, but only succeeded in making his head throb. “That is not important. The seamstress will need to see you within the hour, so I recommend you collect yourself. I’ll wait here for you.”

Dorian thought for a moment about the erection he was concealing and suggested, “Perhaps I should meet you there, I’ll only be a moment.”

Josephine had hummed in contemplation before agreeing, and Dorian dreaded to think what sort of state he appeared as he listened to the tapping of her pumps steadily growing quieter. With the door shut behind him, he let the sheet fall, his hand dropping to his stiff dick.

He had a few memories to fall back on, roaming hands he’d felt before, the smell of lavender soap and sweat. But as he palmed his cock, memories changed to fantasies, the hands bigger, holding him down, the heat and enveloping presence. The fantasy was the other world, the one where Dorian had stayed just like he used to in Tevinter, he’d stayed and let Bull have his way with him.

Instead Dorian stroked himself to completion rough and fast, stifling his moans, before wiping himself off unceremoniously and throwing his clothes on, making himself look presentable in as little time as possible.

He arrived at the door to Josephine’s office in what he would call a timely manner, in comparison it had taken him very little time to prepare. As he raised his hand he paused a moment, listening to what the two lovebirds had to say.

“Lavellan…”

“How many times Josie?” Vhen joked.

“I’m sorry, Vhen. But, are you certain in your choices for the ball, I know you are good friends, but the court will not take kindly to your being an elf, they will take even less kindly to Sera’s presence… Not to mention the Qunari spy, and Tevinter mage with a visible disability.”

“What are you trying to say? That I should go in there and hide too?”

“No! Of course not, but you saw how the seamstress reacted to Sera, and she was far more forgiving than the court. It is our aim to please them, to flatter them, to hold them on our side. Your companions will make that… Difficult, to say the least.”

“The court can suck it up.”

When he finally knocked on the door to Josephine’s office, she met him and hurried him inside as if the previous conversation had not occurred. Then she instructed him to remove his robes as quickly as possible.

“I’m always one for a display, but who is in the room?”

“Just myself and the Herald. The seamstress will return in a moment, she needed a lie down after the Bull.” Vhen laughed at some inside joke he could only assume.

“I’ve been meaning to ask Dorian.” Vhen began.

“This better not be about the Iron Bull.”

“The Iron Bull..?” Josephine questioned. “So are the rumours true? The two of you always seem-…”

“No they are most certainly not true, unless the rumours are that Bull and I are not together, and never have been.” Dorian stated, and he couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into his tone.

“Back to topic.” Vhen interrupted. “I was only going to ask if you would be available for a mission, I’d like to have you there.”

“When am I not available?” He asked with a smile.

“It’s just that we’re going to go to Adamant Fortress, it’ll be a hectic nightmare. We’ll probably meet Erimond again. I can understand if you’d want to sit this one out.”

The last meeting with Erimond had been less than savoury, the bastard had only narrowly avoided the fireball. Dorian could fully understand why she had reservations. “I’ll be there.”

“Good, then get ready we’re leaving tomorrow.”

-

Vhen couldn’t have conjured a better phrase when she’d referred to Adamant as a hectic nightmare. The fight had gone on as normal to begin with, despite the fact that Varric was taking Sera’s place, and Dorian was essentially taking the role of healing and support, a role he wasn’t used to, but it allowed the others to go in and hit hard. Everything had changed when he’d heard the screech overhead.

Then the Wardens were possessed, the Commander had gone for Erimond, and when all else had failed, Clarel had attacked the blighted dragon everyone had feared since Haven. Unfortunately her sacrifice didn’t bring down the beast, but it certainly brought down the bridge they were all standing on. Dorian was reaching out as the ground fell from beneath his feet, a large hand gripping his, but it was no use they were both falling.

The falling seemed to go on far longer than it should have, and when he hit the ground it was with a soft thud. He opened his eyes, rubbing away the dust, blinking quickly as the bright green of the landscape threatened to blind him.

Threatened to-…

Dorian froze, the witty comment about desire demons dissolving on his tongue. The fade. The fade didn’t hold the same laws in his dreams, and apparently in his physical form too. Here he starred at dark rocks jutting into the green sky, a horizon of still water the same murky green.

Hawke let out a thunderous laugh, startling them all, and Dorian whipped round to look at him, a bearded man of average height, who was grinning as they looked at one another, and then Dorian was laughing too, almost hysterically.

“Dorian, you ok?” The Bull asked, a hand resting on his shoulder.

He turned slowly, his eyes falling on the great form of the Qunari before him, of the Bull. Dorian choked on the sob as he fought back the tears, blurring the corners of his vision. “I can see you!”

“Huh, how ‘bout that.” Bull smiled, rubbing the hand down Dorian’s arm.

“We need to carry on. Are you two ok to do that?” Vhen asked.

“Never better!” Hawke laughed, striding forward.

Dorian followed, grinning as he took in their surroundings. They’d walked for some time when Vhen dropped to the back of the group, beside Dorian, and asked quietly, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

In all honesty he couldn’t put together words to describe the sensation. Hawke was talking animatedly to Varric up ahead, Bull hanging close and the man who could have been King of Ferelden stood beside them.

“As Hawke said, I couldn’t be better. And you, do you feel it?”

“Breathings easier, that’s for sure.” She stated. “There’s something different here.”

“There certainly is.” He laughed looking down at the elf, he hadn’t realised just how small or young she was, especially to be leading the armies that had amassed. But her wide eyes held bags, and Dorian wondered if they’d always been there, marring her youth, or if they were a recent development.

“You’ve been looking at Bull a lot.” Vhen commented.

“Well you can’t exactly miss him! Has he always been that large?” Dorian countered sarcastically.

“Admit it. You’ve been _looking._ ” Honestly, Dorian’s attention had been drawn on several occasions, but why wouldn’t his eyes be drawn to the positively huge Qunari put before him, muscles in his back flexing as he shifted the weight of his great axe, his big hands tensed on the shaft and the muscles in his arms bulged for a moment. His clothing was absolutely hideous and Dorian found himself not content with simply seeing for a moment, he wanted to know what lay underneath. “You’re doing it now!”

“Alright, yes, I have glanced in his direction.” Dorian admitted.

“So…”

“So what?”

“When are you going to make a move?” She hissed. Dorian swallowed, trying to forget the night he’d run.

“Truly, we’re the first people to physically step into the fade in what must be ages, and you want to spend the time giving me advice on my love life?”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just make a move; it’s obvious the two of you have chemistry.”

“No, we have a back and forth that has somehow dissolved into mock flirting. I call him an ox, he tries his best to make me uncomfortable.” He knew that wasn’t true.

“Then why don’t you tell him you’re not into it?”

“Because… Well it’s just…”

“Because you’re into it?” She asked with a knowing grin.

“Fine you win! Yes, I have thought about it, but it’s never going to happen.”

“Woah, I wasn’t trying to win anything, I just… You know Bull would be up for it, so why not take the chance?”

“Because chances are short lived. Vhen, stick with Josie, men are foul creatures.”

They were interrupted as Hawke called out, “Look out demons!”

“Where?” Dorian asked.

“Several to the north, a couple east.” Bull reeled off as if it were a normal fight, as if Dorian was still blind.

“I can’t see them.” Dorian muttered, as Hawke hurled a ball of fire into the void, Vhen jumping into action with a spike of ice.

He couldn’t tell where they were, even if he closed his eyes, even if he treated it like any other fight. Fear curled in his stomach, the creatures were invisible, they made no noise, but everyone else could see them. It was only him

“Dorian look out!”

He threw his eyes open, Vhen’s icicle shattering before him, and he threw a fireball of his own at the remnants of the ice, the fire making contact, the creature screeching. It hadn’t gotten close enough to touch, but he could taste copper on his tongue; it dripped down his throat, choking him. The smell of it, the taste, the pounding of his own heart, it all cloaked his senses.

Then a hand gripped him and Dorian jumped away a ball of fire materializing in his hand, the sound of voices only just breaking through.

“Hey, it’s okay, they’re gone now. They’re gone.” Bull comforted, a hand sliding down Dorian’s arm.

“What the hell were they?” Varric asked.

“Spiders.” Vhen answered easily.

“Didn’t think I could hate them anymore. But I never thought I’d ever get to _see_ a giant one try and gnaw on my face.” Hawke joked.

“You saw spiders?” Bull asked. “Shit, I wish they’d been spiders.”

“Me too.” Dorian whispered, the big hand running over his back was soothing. Up, breath in, down and out.

“In that case they were probably fear demons, and something makes me think they won’t be the last. Is everyone good to keep going?” Vhen asked. “The quicker we get out of here the better.”

“Agreed.”

They were all the same, Vhen and Hawke saw spiders, Dorian saw nothing at all, heard nothing, until he managed to hit another one, and the blood started to choke him, the words they screamed were elven, Tevene, common, all different, and a few familiar. He knew without a doubt that they’d all died for him, that it was their blood choking him.

“Dorian?” Bull asked quietly. “How about you stay out of the fights?”

He had nodded, and from then on he’d continued to play support, trying his hardest to avoid the things he couldn’t see. The sooner they left, the better.

-

When he fell through the rift everything flashed green for a moment, the bright light forcing him to close his eyes. When he opened them again, it took him several blinks to realise they were open, that his sight had been stripped from him just as suddenly as it had been given.

“Dorian?” Bull asked quietly, his voice near-by even as Dorian sat on the floor.

“My sight’s gone.” He stated.

“Figured as much, are you alright?”

“I wasted it. We entered the fade physically, I regained my sight, and there was so much I could have done, s _hould_ have done. And I didn’t, I ran through blindly.” He laughed sharply. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“I think you can forgive yourself, there was a bunch of other shit going on. Want help up?”

“I’m fine. But you never mentioned your brace.”

“It’s an old wound.” Bull explained as Dorian dusted himself off. 

“I’ve heard it creaking before, couldn’t figure out what the sound was.”

“You want to head back to camp?”

“Yes, I think that would be for the best. Bull… What did you see, when we fought the fear demons?”

Bull sighed, “Watch your step the place is a mess.”

Bull slowed his pace, waiting as Dorian felt out the ground with his staff, moving forward cautiously. He talked about nonsense, about missions the Chargers had been on, about giant baiting and talking trees.

“What I said about my door being open…”

“Really Bull, after everything that just happened?”

“I was just going to say it’s not just for sex. You ever want to chat or something else, it’s there.”

“Thank you.” Dorian answered after a moment’s pause.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up a little.
> 
> A huge thank you for all of the kudos and comments!

“Please tell me these outfits aren’t as hideous as they feel.”

There was a rather unsettling pause before the inquisitor spoke. “Dorian, I don’t think I could lie to you in good conscience.”

“Vishante Kaffas. Is there nothing you can do to change them?”

“I’m afraid the uniform is final.” Josephine insisted with a sigh. “I don’t believe we have enough in our funds to make a second outfit for the Iron Bull, let alone everyone else. Besides, I’ve been informed that red is in fashion at the moment.”

“What kind of red?” Dorian asked.

“Bright.” Vhen answered simply.

“And you intend to make us wear them to attend court? And if a fight breaks out?”

“Ah!” Josephine cut in. “There will be no fighting in the winter palace.”

“You really think that rule will hold, whilst Vhen’s there?”

“I hope for you all to at least attempt to enforce it until it is necessary.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Dorian tutted.

“Speaking of not killing anything until necessary, I have a mission tomorrow.” Vhen cut in.

“Surely you are not thinking of taking the Tevinter noble?! Please don’t tell me you are taking Sera too.” Josephine begged.

“Sera’s not so enthusiastic after she heard we fell into the fade and fought a fear demon whilst she wasn’t with us. I’ll take Varric.” Vhen assured.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Dorian asked.

“It’s a talk with the Qunari. They want to negotiate an alliance on the Storm Coast.” Vhen explained.

“Oh, you always do take me to the loveliest places.”

“Too bad you can’t see the grin I’m giving you right now. You better wrap up warm this time.”

“I’ll be sure to pack my fluffiest scarf.” Dorian laughed.

-

Dorian had laughed, now he was sorely regretting his decision to bare his arms to the weather. He couldn’t even bear to think of the state of his make-up. Years to perfect the technique and now it was no doubt smudged down his cheeks.

Bull seemed in mixed spirits, something Dorian had not anticipated. He’d assumed Bull would be pleased to see his people again, especially with the Chargers at his back. He certainly seemed pleased enough to see the informant the Qunari had sent. But there was still something off.

After all, Dorian was not so pleased to meet the Qunari contact. Gatt seemed even less pleased to learn of Dorian’s existence.

None of it had been exactly how Dorian had anticipated in all honesty. They’d taken down the camp, and the Bull had said the Chargers had done the same, already firing off their signal. The Lyrium shipment had been taken down easy enough. That was round about when everything had gone wrong, when the arguments had begun.

“What’s happening?” Dorian asked.

It was Varric who answered his call, stating sadly, “The Chargers can’t hold the camp, it’s them or the dreadnought.”

“With all you’ve given the Inquisition half the Ben-Hassrath think you’ve betrayed them already.” Gatt was saying, and if Dorian hadn’t already disliked him.

“They’re my men.” Bull argued.

“I know Hissrad, but you need to do what’s right, for this alliance and the Qun.”

“No!” Dorian shouted. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Dorian, this is Bull’s call.” Vhen said quietly.

“Listen to your superior and stay out of this Tevinter.”

“No! Bull, call the retreat.” Dorian insisted. “That’s the Chargers, Bull. Krem, Dalish, Rocky, Skinner, Grim, Stitches. Are you just going to let them die down there?!”

“The Qun demands it.” Bull stated, voice void of emotion.

“You lost your eye for one of those strays you picked up Bull, and they trust you, they trust you completely. You told me about you and Chargers, together. Now when was the last time you told me about the Qun? Maker damn you Bull, call a retreat.”

“Creators damn it Bull, Dorian’s right!” Vhen admitted.

There was silence for a while, only permeated by the sound of the rain, and Dorian admitted defeat, slumped back and gripped his staff as he waited to hear the inevitable.

 “Don’t!” Gatt argued, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of the horn, and Dorian didn’t think he could grip his staff any tighter, but as a small smile pulled his lips the wood strained beneath his fingers.

“All of this time Hissrad, and you throw it all away for what? For this? For _them_?!”

“His name is the Iron Bull.” Vhen argued.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Gatt had spat, before walking away.

“Bull, are you okay?” Dorian asked quietly.

“No way the dreadnought will get out of range, won’t be long now.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t stand around to watch it sink.” Vhen suggested.

“Sink? Qunari dreadnoughts don’t sink.”

The explosion shook them slightly, and Dorian stepped forward. “Bull, I’m sorry.”

“No. Let’s just get back to my boys.” Dorian had never heard Bull sound so despondent.

-

Dorian had been drinking for some time when he stumbled into the Herald’s rest. There was no occasion, it was simply one of those nights, which had become less and less frequent as of late. His feet carried him to the Chargers table, which fell quiet as he approached. “Is the Bull here?”

“No.” Krem answered. “He went to his room about an hour ago, he was about as drunk as you look.”

“Excellent.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Dorian smiled before he answered, “Not at all,” And turned on his heel.

“Dorian.” Krem stated, making Dorian pause for a moment, it wasn’t often the Charger’s second used his name. “Thank you, for what you did.”

-

When he eventually found the door, he knocked twice before pushing it open without waiting for a reply, the smell of whiskey thick in the air.

As expected he could hear Bull jump from where ever he had been sitting. “Dorian?! What are you doing here?”

“You said your door was always open. I always figured that was a metaphor, not that you literally kept your door unlocked at all hours.” He stated with his nose wrinkled in mock disgust.

“What are you doing here?” The Iron Bull asked a second time as Dorian stepped into the room, his hand finding the chair.

“I decided to come and see what all of the fuss is about, with you in it this time. The Iron Bull’s room, you wouldn’t believe the rumours that get spread.”

“You’re still avoiding the question. Look, I’m real glad you decided to come, but I’m not up for anything right now.” Dorian’s fingers trailed over the chair, before he stepped forward, his hand meeting the table.

“Not even one of those chats you offered?”

“Chat? What did you want to talk about?”

“So, Tal-Vashoth…” Dorian began after a moment.

“Look Dorian, we’ve both been drinking…”

“I always find that wine loosens the tongue. You wouldn’t have anymore, would you?”

“I find that drink makes people act irrational and out of character.”

“Well either way I’m sure we’re in for an interesting chat… You know this whole Tal-Vashoth thing doesn’t change you.” Dorian offered quietly.

“You can’t know that.”

Dorian turned the chair towards the Bull’s voice, sinking down onto it. “Oh, but I do. I want to believe I know you to some degree, and whatever it is you’re scared of becoming, you’re not that.”

Bull was silent for a moment before he admitted, “You don’t know me, not really.”

“Like you don’t really know me, and yet here I am, sitting in your room trying to convince you that you’re the good man I think you are.”

“Tal-Vashoth go mad. Without the Qun there’s nothing to stop us, it’s a way of reigning us in.”

“And you’ve been living away from the Qun for how long? Surely long enough to go mad without it.”

“It’s not the same.”

 “Then please explain it to me.” He could hear Bull drop onto the bed with a sigh.

“I’ve mentioned Seheron before. You don’t know what it was like there; it was a bag of fucking cats. Tal-Vashoth, fog warriors, ‘Vints, everyone at each other’s throats, with the natives stuck in the middle. I’ve killed enough Tal-Vashoth to know what happens.”

“A knew a couple of Tal-Vashoth, a family that ran a… A store in the lower districts of Minrathous. They were just like the elven family that owned the grocers, only larger, of course, I wasn’t aware they were Qunari or Tal-Vashoth or whatever you wanted to call you horned people for quite some time. They weren’t insane as far as I can recall. In fact it was the Qunaris under the Qun that tried to behead me on sight. You’ve done a great many things, but I don’t believe trying to behead me is one of them… Is that what you saw, the fearlings, did you see parts of Seheron?”

“Dorian, I think it’s best if you leave.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want. One thing first…” Dorian stood from the chair, stepping forward to where the Bull was sat. Pressing his hands carefully against the man’s chest, before pressing his lips to the space between his horns. “You’re not a bad man.”

Bull placed his hand on Dorian’s hip, waiting a moment before he quietly asked, “You realised I’ve been naked this whole time yet?”

Dorian pulled back sharply. “You’ve just ruined a perfectly sweet moment.”

“Not my fault you barged in whilst I was naked.”

“It’s not my fault you keep your door unlocked, and besides you never informed me!”

“What would you have done if I had?”

Dorian paused for a moment before grinning. “Possibly something irrational.”

“And out of character?”

“If you think it out of character then maybe you don’t know me at all. Betting on what irrational drunken activity I’ll partake in is a national sport in Tevinter.”

“Shit, Dorian, why now? Any night before now I would have given you what you needed.”

“What do _you_ need?”

“What I need wouldn’t be good for you.”

“How do you know, when you haven’t even asked what I want?”

“You’re drunk.”

“So are you, I can smell it.”

“What do you want, Dorian?”

“This.” He answered, pulling Bull’s head up so he could kiss him properly this time. When the moment had passed and Dorian began to pull away a hand gripped his arm, stilling him, and Dorian returned willingly. The kiss deepened, a tongue brushing over his lips, and then a hand was on his waist, and Dorian’s arms were wrapping around Bull’s neck.

Bending his legs he sunk into Bull’s waist, his chin tilting up so their lips could stay together. He remembered what he’d seen not so long ago, the muscles, the wide shoulders, all etched to memory as his fingers ran over them, tracing long healed scars.

“You sure you want this?” Bull gasped.

“Of course.” Dorian replied, before pushing their lips together. It was wild and desperate like some of his earliest trysts. “I just couldn’t.”

Grasping hands, both of them, as Bull lifted Dorian from his lap, before dropping him onto the bed. Then those hands were pulling away his clothing, as Dorian pulled the lips back to his. The room was cool, obviously so when his chest was bared and Bull was throwing his robes to the floor.

“You need me to tell you before I do anything?” Bull asked.

“I- I should be good. I don’t need special treatment.”

“Well you ever want to stop just say so.”

The gasp that Dorian released was by no means the reply that he had been going for. Something about ‘being able to take it’. But, venhedis… Bull’s lips had left his, and instead his tongue was circling his nipple, nipping and sucking, as his hands worked off the remainder of Dorian’s clothing. He was almost embarrassed to think that he was already hard, but then Bull pressed some weight against him, one thick thigh slipping between Dorian’s legs. And he swore, aloud, when he felt Bull’s cock pressed against him, hard and-… Well, kaffas, he’d never had anything that big in his ass before.

When the Bull chuckled, breath cold against his chest, Dorian realised he must have said as much. Then the Bull was gone, and something was popping, and there were only so many explanations one could conjure for that kind of noise, and it was certainly not the time for a drink.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Maker, yes.” Dorian sighed.

“I’ll give you my fingers first.” Bull explained, and Dorian almost sighed, almost complained. But then he felt Bull stroking his entrance, his slicked finger pressing in, and those huge hands.

A moan escaped him, and Dorian pressed his lips shut, tried to stay quiet even as Bull’s finger pushed further inside him, stroking, spreading him open. Then it pressed over that sweet spot and Dorian’s lips parted in a positively filthy noise.

“That’s right; let me hear those pretty moans.” Bull encouraged, hand that wasn’t buried in Dorian’s arse stroking up the mages side. “Another finger?”

All he could do was nod, his lip caught between his teeth as he failed at stifling his groans. Bull was not one to disappoint, and as the second finger slid in, Dorian pressed his ass against it, needing more than the fingers could offer.

The fingers left suddenly and there was a moment where Dorian felt shockingly empty, but he knew the cue. He turned, sticking his ass up, but Bull stopped him, a gentle hand on his back. “Hey, I want to see that pretty face of yours when I fuck you.

Dorian hesitated for a moment, wondering if Bull was mocking him, at a time like this, but then gentle hands guided him back. He led on the bed for a moment, he and Bull facing one another and he debated asking, questioning, _why didn’t you make me turn away_.

“You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine… I thought you said you were going to fuck me.”

“Only if you want it.”

“Kaffas Bull, fuck me then!” He begged, and the Bull growled as he pulled Dorian’s ass into his lap.

“You ever fucked a Qunari?” Dorian shook his head, and Bull hummed in contemplation.

“Best take this slow.”

Dorian was prepared to complain, but he stifled himself, he’d heard those words before, and never in his life had he taken anything slow. The head of Bull’s slicked cock was rubbing against Dorian’s rim and the mage sighed in anticipation, he wasn’t lying, and as Bull pushed in with a grunt, Dorian had to try and level his breathing, his hole stretching pleasantly as Bull filled him. When Bull stopped Dorian could feel the Qunari’s balls pressed against his arse, and a hand rubbing over his stomach, coming so achingly close to his cock that it wasn’t at all helping his breathing.

“You doing alright there big guy?” Bull asked, and Dorian most certainly did not moan as Bull shifted inside him.

As much as Dorian had assumed his moan would have been answer enough, Bull did not continue until Dorian had cried, “Yes! Please, keep going!” and he had to wonder if Bull was one of those guys, if the reason he’d asked for his face was so he could see him as he begged for it. He’d certainly had that before.

All thoughts of other encounters were stunted as Bull pulled away, pushing back with vigour. Dorian’s hand’s reached out, grip at the first thing they find, which just so happened to be Bull’s arms, the muscles beneath his fingers tensed, and Dorian’s legs clenched around Bull’s waist as he coaxed the Qunari on, thrust after thrust. There was no hope of containing the wanton moans that escaped him.

Hand’s ran over his sweat soaked skin and Bull spoke to him over and over, compliments encouragements. Fingers brushed against Dorian’s cock, and the natural rhythm they’d gained stuttered as Dorian pushed up against the hand that stroking him.

“You- You don’t have to.” Dorian muttered, but Bull did not release his grip, pumping Dorian’s dick once.

“You take it so damn pretty.” Bull sighed, and Dorian had the right mind to grip Bull’s fist to make him give the friction that Dorian desired, but there was no need. One more rut against Bull’s fist and the Qunari got the message, stroking in time to the rhythm.

Each shift in Bull’s wrist quickened Dorian’s breath, pushing him closer to the edge, and Maker, he was so damn starved. When he came it was with a cry and a laugh that was quarter confusion, quarter alcohol and a half ecstasy, his own seed spilling over his stomach. Bull came quickly after, leaning forward so that he could press his lips against Dorian’s neck as he filled him.

They stayed like that for a while, even as Bull’s dick softened, he stayed for a while, raining kisses down on Dorian’s caramel skin. It made Dorian forget for a moment, and he wished that he could have forgotten for longer, but eventually realisation dawned, and he pushed against Bull’s shoulders. When he stayed things went wrong, when he got attached.

“I have to go.”

Bull rolled away, allowing Dorian to stand. “You don’t have to go.”

“I do.” Dorian protested.

“Let’s at least get you cleaned up first.” Bull suggested, but Dorian was stumbling about the floor trying to find his clothing.

“I don’t need your help, I can clean myself thank you very much.” Dorian spat as his hand connected with one of his boots.

“I don’t doubt it, but I’m not giving you special treatment, I do it for anyone. Especially anyone who’s about to leave my room covered in cum.”

Dorian took a deep breath and snatched up his robes as he straightened his back. “I have to leave.”

Silence filled the room as Dorian buttoned up the robes and pulled on his boots, before turning to where he was certain the door should be. Thankfully he hadn’t been too drunk or turned around, and gripped the door handle, pausing for only a moment to say, “Thank you for the evening Bull.” before stepping out into the cool night air.

-

Soon enough the trip to the Winter Palace was upon them and Josephine was lecturing them about proper etiquette as they approached, as if Dorian didn’t grow up in the upper classes of Tevinter. Sera on the other hand evidently needed the talk if her plots were anything to go by.

They spread throughout the palace, and Dorian was placed with the task of standing in the gardens. There was evidently a small fountain nearby, and the garden was filled with chatter, nothing that stood out as useful intrigue however, all inane gossip.

It gave him time to stand and think, something he had been avoiding for quite some time, because his train of thought always undoubtedly swerved towards the Iron Bull. The topic of their night together had been completely avoided since he had left the room.

“You look bored.” Vhen commented, and Dorian smiled, he’d only been half listening to the conversation the inquisitor had been having with the empress’s right-hand maidens.

“Well, the night is still young. I’m sure it will liven up once the assassinations begin. Any exciting news?”

“Not much. But the servants have been telling me things. Warned me not to go into the servants quarters, apparently elves have been going missing.”

“You see, that’s exactly the type of exciting intrigue I expect you to bring me. So, knowing you, you’re here to ask me to join you in the servant’s quarters?”

“Five minutes.” She answered. Dorian could imagine the grin.

Five minutes later Bull was beside him, leading him towards the back end of the palace. “So, you going to save me a dance?”

Dorian couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “A dance, truly? A Qunari and an Altus, what a sight to behold.”

“Is that a yes then?”

“You’re not being serious?!”

“Of course.”

“There you two are,” Vhen sighed. “I thought you’d accidentally fallen into a room together.”

Dorian could feel his cheeks heat, but nobody commented on it. They simply pressed on into the servant’s quarters.

As suspected they were not alone in their exploration of the castle, the difference being that the other guests appeared far more prepared for an assault, weapons, armour and all. After they’d taken down the first group and were more appropriately equipped they held the upper hand. It was all still a rush though, Vhen muttering about Josephine being unhappy if they stayed away from the party for too long.

When they were eventually able to return to the main event, their uniform was slightly worse for wear, and they were only slightly further forward in their attempts to uncover who could possibly be plotting to kill the empress.

Flustered, and trying to catch her breath, Vhen barely had time to recollect herself before she was dancing with someone of great importance.

“You didn’t answer. Will you dance, or are you still avoiding me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What about that is ridiculous?”

“First of all for the fact that you think I’m avoiding you for some reason, certainly not the sex, _why would I be avoiding you after that_?” Dorian asked sarcastically. “Secondly, for asking me to dance. I thought we were past the teasing and nonsense.”

“So you regret the night together. That’s fine, let’s forget it.”

“I don’t-… It’s not that I _regret_ it per se. But I’m certain we can both agree it was ill-considered, and it won’t be happening again.” Dorian said tersely, his patience being stretched.

“Is that why you won’t dance with me?” Bull persisted, after everything that had been passed between them it seemed stupid that this was the thing that made Dorian snap.

“No.” He hissed sharply, rounding on Bull. “I won’t dance with you because men don’t dance together, they don’t get the chance. They get veiled flirtations and a quick fuck in one of the guest rooms, before they return and grab a lady and act as if it never happened. All of it so rushed that I wouldn’t pick his voice out from the crowd… That’s how things go.”

Bull spoke softly, “Then change that.”

“Boys!” Vhen shouted from across the ballroom.

“I think we’re needed.” Bull clarified.

As a matter of fact they were all sorely needed; if the two people they saved (and the one they set free, the Bull and Sera described the situation to Dorian in great detail later) were anything to go by. Everything was almost unbearably overdramatic, but he’d expected no less from the Orlesian court. Vhen’s grand speech denouncing the Duchess however had been a slight surprise, a thoroughly enjoyable one.

Dorian stayed to celebrate for a while, there was more of the spicy punch, and he was learning very rapidly that it was as strong as it seemed. Maker it was hot in here. He’d been denied access to one of the balconies, apparently it was occupied by the Herald and her adviser and Dorian knew better than to take that at face value. They were no doubt inseparable and half way to a good night.

He was barely able to take a single breath before another presence joined him.

“Listen Bull, I’ve been thinking and I don’t regret what happened between us, but I’m not used to this- this affection you’re trying to-”

“Okay I’m going to stop you there.” Vhen stated.

“Oh… Shit.”

“A common swearword, you really are in the shit. So, you and the Bull? I thought that was _never_ going to happen.”

“Ah, there were some, unexpected developments.”

“So why the secrets?”

Dorian sighed leaning against the railing. “I wouldn’t want anyone to know about this, just like I wouldn’t want anyone to know I fancy Ferelden beer.”

“You drink that stuff all the time, it doesn’t matter how much you turn your nose up at it, everyone knows you like it.”

“And I suppose you’re suggesting it’s the same with the Bull too..? It was just one night, one ill-considered night.”

“That you don’t regret.” It wasn’t a question.

“I suppose I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You certainly did.” Vhen answered with a hint of a laugh. “What I wanted can wait; I’m heading back to Josie… Hey Bull.”

Dorian stiffened as he heard Bull approach, the creaking of the brace and his unnaturally quiet footsteps working their way onto the balcony to join he and Vhen.

“Evening boss.” Bull greeted and Dorian could imagine him tipping his head, that giant rack of horns dipping too.

“Good night Bull.” She countered. “And good night Dorian.”

“Good night.” He replied to her departing footsteps.

“Looks like I’m here to apologise again.” Bull began. “I only pester you because I can tell you want these things Dorian, but you don’t let yourself have them. I’m sorry.”

“Is the offer still open?”

 “Yeah, it’s still open. Would you like to dance?” Dorian tried to imagine the smile he had seen once, the one that lifted half of Bull’s face in a grin, and he imagined it playing on the Bull’s lips now.

“Yes, I would. Mind you I’ve only been taught to lead, Tevinter society and all that with its expectations.”

Bull’s hand clasped his delicately, holding it loose as he lifted it, his other hand rested on Dorian’s shoulder.  “Then you lead this time.”

Dorian huffed a sigh as he rested his hand on Bull’s hip. It was a simple dance, nothing fancy like he’d learned to do at a young age with his eyes closed, nothing like what was expected at grand balls and galas. They swayed back and forth in time to the music that still flowed through the balcony door, until Dorian’s hand slipped around Bull’s waist, and his head fell against the firm chest.

“You want to sneak off to one of the guest rooms?” Bull asked. “Your call. But I can’t promise I’ll act like it never happened.”

“That sounds… Yes, I think I would like that.”

Bull gripped Dorian’s hand, and the mage was about the suggest they remained slightly less intimate until they were out of the view of the entire Orlaisian court, but was distracted by the sudden revelation as he gripped Bull’s hand. Perhaps it was simply because he’d never held the Qunari like this before but he paused for a moment feeling the two fingers and the remnants.

“How much of you is there missing?” He asked.

“Just the fingers and the eye… And maybe something from my knee. Oh, and I had a bone removed from ribs no way in hell that was going back in. Had to get rid of one of my kidneys too, safer than leaving it in.”

“You’re mad.” Dorian stated as Bull began to leave, but Dorian tugged him back, retrieving his hand. “Hand holding is… No hand holding.”

“Okay.” Bull agreed, his footsteps and the creak of his brace drawing away. Dorian followed a short distance behind, close enough that he could hear the familiar sound, but not close enough that anyone would assume he was following the Qunari. Well… At least nobody who knew them. As they passed Leliana he heard her greet Bull, and then add his own name with a tinge of humour in her tone.

The noise of the party thinned, and Dorian followed Bull until it couldn’t be heard at all. Another door creaked and Dorian was hit by a chill wind. “Where are you taking us?”

“Figured there’s a whole building of ‘Grand Apartments’ that are supposedly off limits.”

“You realise they’re off limits now because we killed everyone here, yes?” Dorian asked.

“Didn’t go in every room.” Bull retorted.

As a matter of fact it was actually a rather marvellous idea. Dorian was simply glad he had he couldn’t see any of the bodies, even as a necromancer he imagined that would kill the mood somewhat.

Eventually they settled upon a room, Bull assured Dorian it was clean and rather extravagant, and as the mage ran his fingers over some of the furniture he believed the Bull wholly, every piece of wood was unnecessarily and intricately carved, the room was warm, the fire crackling quietly.

“So, how do you want to do this?” Bull asked.

“I was hoping it would work like last time. We kiss, you throw me on the bed, we fuck, or something vaguely similar I’m not really caught up on the particulars.”

“It doesn’t work just like that; you came for a second round which means we have to lay down some ground rules.”

“Ground rules? Maker Bull, this is just fucking isn’t it?”

“Yeah, if that’s what you want, so we need ground rules.”

“What kind of ground rules are we talking here?”

“How about the fact you seemed put off when I asked you to look at me. You okay with that?” Bull asked, and it made Dorian pause for a moment.

“Yes. It’s just that I’m used to partners telling me to turn away.” He answered hesitantly.

“Why, you have a god damn pretty face?”

“Of course I do.” Dorian stated, and he heard Bull exhale, almost a laugh, like he knew the joke too, like he knew that if Dorian believed that, he wouldn’t have to say so as often. “Now, what are we talking for didn’t you invite me here to ravish me?”

“I just invited you here; you assumed there was going to be ravishing. But first, ground rules.” Dorian groaned flopping back onto the bed, but Bull continued regardless. “I’m guessing from previous conversations you don’t have a safeword?”

Dorian chuckled to himself. “Oh is that so? You think I haven’t walked on the wild side?”

“We’ll use that then if you want. Or we can use mine?”

“We can use yours.”

“Fine, the words ‘Katoh’. You say anything that sounds like that and I stop. Anything you don’t want to do?”

“Sit around waiting. Maker, I might just go and grab one of the men at the party, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind some action.”

“You can do that if you want.” Bull stated and Dorian waited to see if there was anything else to the emotionless statement. “You want this to stay friends with benefits right?” Dorian nodded his head. “Then there’s no strings attached, we can do whoever we want on the side.”

“That sounds right to me.” He answered hesitantly, as if somehow being in the south, as if a second round made them anything more.

“You just want to take it from here and see what happens?” Dorian had nodded.

It was all a bad idea. The careful way that Bull held him in his arms and kissed Dorian achingly slow and tender, and the press of their lips together as Dorian tried to take them faster, but Bull slowed him down. Goosebumps rose on his skin where Bull ran his fingers, pulling Dorian in ever closer. The nearness of it all filled his every available sense, lingering touches, the taste of Bull on his tongue, sweat and crackling firewood. The Bull had unfastened the clasps on Dorian’s jacket with the same slowness, as if each of them deserved their own time, instead of being ripped away like the hideous thing deserved.

Next, as Bull left Dorian’s lips, came the boots, careful, Bull pressing a kiss against his ankles. Then the trousers, and Bull untied the laces with the same carefulness, sliding the fabric down Dorian’s hips, the mage lifted them, allowing Bull to remove the garment, and his half hard cock gained freedom from the hideous uniform.

Big hands brushing against his sides, Bull dipped his head to Dorian’s cock, mouthing at it gently, teasing him to hardness, before taking his full length.

“What about you?” Dorian asked, his voice croaking, and he wasn’t sure how long Bull had been pressing on with his tender ministrations.

“This isn’t about me.” Bull answered simply, taking Dorian’s cock in his mouth once again, his tongue sliding up the length; causing a shiver down Dorian’s spine.

“But I want you inside me again.” Dorian admitted. If Bull’s tender chuckle was anything to go by, the hot breath against his dick, he was wearing that grin.

Bull’s presence left him, and Dorian heard clothes hitting the ground, far quicker than his own had, and soon enough his hands were there again, slow and tender. Bull opened him up on his slickened fingers again, slower this time, his fingers brushing over that sweet spot in a way that made Dorian’s desire ignite, and simmer almost immediately, all the while Bull rained down kisses. Dorian’s brain couldn’t comprehend whether this was by far the most infuriating or the most pleasing thing he’d ever played a part in.

His cock was beginning to ache, untouched and needing, the moan that escaped him was something close to Bull’s name, soft and desperate, and the kiss that Dorian received suggested that was precisely the right reaction. Bull’s fingers pulled out with a filthy wet noise, and the Bull inserted himself in their place, pressing into Dorian slowly, hands continuing their slow exploration, and Dorian hoped this was what it had all been building up to.

It started slowly, just as everything else had, but the pace picked up gradually, pulling the needy moans from Dorian’s throat. His hand’s dropped to his aching cock, but Bull gripped his wrists, pressing them against the bed sheets, and Dorian didn’t fight. He lay under the Bull, facing him, his hands pinned by his head and he pressed against every thrust inside him, pressing him closer to orgasm.

He came before Bull, his cock twitching, and spilling seed without a touch. He was glad later that there was no one near; that no one could hear the cries he made as he came. The Bull thrust for a while longer, before filling Dorian with his hot seed, making the mage moan again at the pleasant feeling of being pumped full.

This time Bull pulled out immediately and Dorian sighed as he felt the seed spill down his ass, sticking between his thighs. Soon the realisation would come, he knew. But Bull was not holding him, not kissing him, and Dorian feared it would come sooner, he would have to flee. Water ran, and his breathing quickened as his hands gripped the sheets where they had been pinned.

When the wet cloth pressed against his skin Dorian flinched away from it, but Bull’s heavy hand stroked against his skin, and his voice was soft in the silence. His lips too were soft as he pressed them to the nape of Dorian’s neck, as he ran the cloth of his skin, as he forgot to run.

“If you want,” Bull began, his voice barely above a whisper, “I can take you to your room after this.”

“Can we stay a while?” Dorian had asked.

Bull had agreed, and had continued to kiss Dorian, soft flutters against his skin, and fiercely pressed together, tongues exploring.

-

They had both fallen asleep, Dorian realised as he awoke. Moving carefully he gathered what he hoped were his items of clothing, and when the jacket was far too large, well, fuck it all, the Qunari never wore a shirt anyway.

Bull continued to snore as Dorian crept towards the door, he sighed, before closing it behind him, and navigating his way back to the Winter Palace.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break and the fact that this chapter is much shorter than the others but it seemed right.
> 
> Also BDSM straight off the bat

This kind of act had become something that was commonplace in Dorian’s sex life. Even more so in the short time since this _thing_ with Bull had begun.

His cheek was pressed against the sheets, soft against his skin, a slight difference, and vast improvement, to the many decidedly un-soft places his cheeks had been pressed during intercourse. The sheets below him were soaked in his own fluids, for now only sweat, and a surprising amount of saliva as he sucked against the ball strapped in his mouth. His jaw wasn’t the only ache, his shoulders straining, but it was pleasant, the ropes around his wrists holding them in place behind his back.

The main difference in the porno that his life seemed to have devolved into, was the tiny golden bell clutched tightly in his palm, the steadying hand on his spine, and the soft velvet against his eyes, as if the blindfold made a difference.

Moaning against the ball, he’d already let go of any inhibitions he may have held, he’d learnt that quickly when he’d started to fuck Bull, or rather, had the Bull fuck him on the regular. Bull chuckled, a sweet thing in his deep voice as he slowly pulled the plug from Dorian’s hole, thrusting it a few times just to hear him moan, a drop of lube running down Dorian’s thigh. He’d been wearing the damned thing for hours, the thickness of Bull and impossible to sit on, his cheeks clenching around it as he’d stifled the moans that wanted to escape with every shift.

“So good and ready.” Bull praised and Dorian didn’t try to argue, just moaned against his gag.

Even with the preparation, Bull still slickened his cock before pressing against Dorian’s needy entrance. Strong hand’s gripped his hips as Bull pushed in, fast and hard and enough to make Dorian cry out in pleasure and surprise.

Bull pounded against him hard and fast, fingers no doubt leaving bruises, Dorian’s face against the sheets and his cock aching for the touch it had been denied. Dorian learnt one thing quickly; Bull could go surprisingly long, no matter how much Dorian pushed against him, when they fucked like this, he always came first. This was no exception, his aching dick bobbing between his legs, body folded in half; it was only a matter of time. Dorian moaned, the pleasure bordering on the edge. Then Bull finally touched his needy member, but not at all how he wanted, Bull’s thick fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, lips at his neck, thrusts slowing, whispering. “Like we practiced.”

Taking a deep breath through his nose Dorian cursed the slow thrusts Bull was supplying, pulling him from the brink. Bull quickened his pace again as Dorian breathed; his breathes coming quick again, interspersed with muffled declarations of want, of need. He was going to come, Maker he was going to… But Bull slowed, taking the pace down gradually, and Dorian kicked his leg into Bull’s thigh. Bull only laughed, “You’ve got your bell.” But Dorian didn’t want to drop the Maker damned bell, he wanted to come.

When again the thrusting began, sharp and fast, the noise of the Bull’s hips against Dorian’s sweat soaked skin, the feel of the Bull’s heavy balls slapping against Dorian’s perineum as he buried his cock deep, that alone would have been enough to tip him over. But it was the Bull’s groan as he came, as his hot seed filled Dorian that threw him forcefully over the edge, spreading his own come over his stomach and the sheets below him, tears prickling in his eyes as he cried out, words muffled by the spit slick gag that felt heavy on his tongue.

They stayed for a moment, both panting, the Bull’s hands running over his sensitive skin, hot and sweat soaked. When Bull pulled away he helped Dorian to sit upright, knees shaking. He untied the knots at Dorian’s wrists carefully but quickly, massaging away the pain for a moment, coaxing the blood back to his fingers. Next Bull untied the buckle at the back of Dorian’s head and carefully pulled away the gag, giving him a moment to move his jaw, to gain that satisfying click, before he pulled the silk from Dorian’s eyes running the soft fabric over his face, wiping away the drool that coated his chin and cheek. Then his hand’s moved to Dorian’s shoulders, massaging out the stiffness, even though Dorian was certain he would feel it in the morning.

Dorian knew that Bull would have to change the sheets, but Bull held him there for a moment, laying gentle kisses over his skin, holding him steady, massaging away some of the pain. When Bull offered Dorian a glass of water he took at with unsteady hands and sipped at it slowly.

When eventually he held an empty glass in his hands, Bull carefully took it away, and Dorian stated, voice hoarse, “Perhaps I should leave.”

“You don’t have to,” Bull insisted, as he always did, just as assuredly as Dorian always felt the tug in his heart.

And then Bull’s hand was holding his, thumb running over the back of his knuckles. That had been the first rule, before any others had been put into place, before there had been a need for rules, _no hand holding._

For a moment he stuttered, ran his fingers over the back of Bull’s palm, wished he could see the way Bull could look at him, instead of simply hoping that he does. Dorian thought about pulling away, thought, and remained frozen.

There were so many things Dorian expected Bull to say, _Stay. Don’t go. Spend the night with me._ And he would have broken, he-

_Amatus._

But Bull said none of those things, his voice was soft steady, and instead he said, “The first time, why did you hesitate when I said to look at me?”

“I-I told you, most men do it with me facing away.”

“Why?”

“Well, how should I-?” Dorian sighed, closing his eyes as he spoke, a reflex from those men. “My eyes… I was- I was always meant to be a one-off, a secret that nobody could trace back. And what’s the point in fucking a blind man when you can tell he’s blind?”

“Because you’re a man first.”

Dorian laughed, a bitter thing. “And isn’t that the problem?”

Bull took his chin between his fingers, hand still held. “Maybe Tevinter can’t appreciate that, appreciate you, but I can name a few people who’d say they’re wrong.”

“An entire nation, wrong?” Dorian joked.

“Void, if they’re doing this to people like you, no wonder Par Vollen hasn’t stopped the war.”

“There’s no one like me.” Dorian sighed, it should have been confident.

“You’re right, so how about _you_ stay?”

The laugh that was pulled from Dorian was slightly less bitter. “What’s making me?”

“Nothing, it’s your decision.”

“Bull… Bull, I’m sorry. I’m not used to exclusivity, I don’t know…”

“Hey, don’t be sorry for any of this. Take whatever time you need to get it right in your head.”

“You’re not even going to try and convince me?”

“I can if you want me to.”

“Oh? And how would you do that?” Dorian asked voice dipping low.

Bull’s hand stroked over his cheek, pulling him in closer, lips pressing against his softly, Dorian tried to make it rougher, but Bull pushed him back. “Hey, take it easy big guy.”

“Well if you want this to go anywhere you might have to be a little less reserved.” Dorian suggested and Bull hummed.

“Who says this is going anywhere?” Bull asked, pressing his lips to Dorian’s forehead, his nose his cheek, goose bumps raised on Dorian’s arms.

“If this isn’t going anywhere then how do you intend to convince me?”

“By staying right here.” Bull answered, lips pressing against Dorian’s skin lightly, one hand resting against the dip in his back, and one still holding his face.

As Bull held him close, he led Dorian down to the bed, like he might do on one of their gentler sessions, but all the Bull did was let Dorian lay over him, chest to chest, tightening his grip ever so slightly, loose enough Dorian realised that he could easily remove himself from the grasp.

He stayed for a while, but only because the Bull’s chest was surprisingly comfortable, the Bull’s filed claws scratching at the short hair on the side of his head, and before he realised sleep had already claimed him.

-

He woke with a start, the sudden sense of being somewhere different, somewhere he shouldn’t be washed over him. He could no longer feel a fire at his back, and it took a moment for him to recognise the body he was curled against, his face pressed against a hard bicep.

If he’d still had doubts they were quickly washed away when Bull asked, “You alright big guy?”

“Yes.” Dorian sighed, debating whether he should remove the arm he’d slung over the Bull’s waist, but Bull’s arms still held him close.

“It’s not even light out yet, with your snoring I thought you’d be out until morning.”

“Snoring?! I don’t snore!” Dorian argued.

“That so? Well sleeping Dorian would beg to differ.”

“Well if it’s keeping you up perhaps I should return to my own room.” Dorian threatened, without making a single move to leave, and then found that he hoped Bull didn’t send him away.

Bull didn’t say anything, just pushed Dorian’s hair from his forehead, and squeezed his hip. It took Dorian a little while to return to sleep, his pillow rising and falling with every breath.

-

Dorian had stayed a few times after that, it usually meant morning sex and a cooked breakfast in the rest, which he couldn’t exactly complain about.

He’d been thinking about it a lot, far too often for his own good. Not just the staying the night, but everything. Sera would laugh and call him ‘flaming’, tell him not to take offense, it was the way Sera worked and she hadn’t pranked him in quite some time. Varric called him ‘Sparkler’, and called him over for a game of Wicked Grace, still trying to figure out how he managed to win any of the games. Dagna simply called him with a giggle, like there wasn’t enough time in her hectic life for coming up with nicknames, but there was more than enough time for experiments, and laughter, and gripping Dorian in excitement when she got something impossibly right. Krem would call him Altus, but without bite, and draw him over to the Chargers, where they’d laugh and drink whether the Bull was there or not. Dalish called him something elven as he showed her how to overcome her fatigue, use the mana to the best of her ability like they taught in Tevinter circles. Bull…

Bull had a lot of little pet names for Dorian, stupid things usually, like when he’d called Dorian ataashi after they’d fought the dragon in Crestwood, or when he said sugar and asked Dorian to come back to bed. Dorian had a list of names for Bull, all on the tip of his tongue, waiting.

But then Bull called him something else.

“That’s right.” Bull moaned as Dorian pushed against him, cock buried deep in his ass. Dorian moaned in reply, hands clumsily finding Bull’s horns and pulling him down for a kiss. “You’re so good kadan.”

Dorian pulled away; surely it was just a mistake, some slip of the tongue, but then… But then that meant that Bull had been thinking of someone else whilst his dick was buried inside Dorian. They weren’t exclusive of course that had been the second rule, they could see whoever they wanted outside of this thing, Dorian just hadn’t… He couldn’t bear to think what that meant. Bull on the other hand…

“Katoh.” He gasped, feeling the tears sting the corners of his eyes. Bull stopped thrusting instantly, pulling himself out of Dorian’s ass slowly, carefully, but all the while running a hand over his side muttering that it would be ok. Dorian had always wondered about testing the theory that it meant an immediate stop, he was glad that at least that had been true.

“Hey, you ok?” Bull asked and Dorian didn’t offer him a reply just pressed his forehead to his knees as if it would make him disappear. “Hey, Dorian, it’s okay, you want me to stop touching you?”

Yet again Dorian didn’t answer so Bull pulled his hand away, and a sob broke through what remained of Dorian’s composure. He was being foolish he knew he was, there was a rule, a rule that said they could see anyone, and he was so damn selfish he’d thought otherwise, thought that maybe he was the only one. “I can’t help if you don’t give me anything.”

“You said ‘Kadan’.” Dorian hiccoughed.

“Ah shit.” Bull sighed, the hint of a chuckle touching his voice, and Dorian didn’t think there was any reason to smile. “I thought… Well, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?!” Dorian cried, climbing from the Bull’s bed, holding his ground even when he undershot the edge a little. “Bull, I thought… It doesn’t matter.”

“Hey,” Bull slowly took Dorian’s hand in his own, leading him to sit on the edge of the bed, their shoulders brushing. “Obviously it matters to you. Tell me what I can do to make it right.”

Dorian took a deep steadying breath before asking, “Who are they?”

“Who do you mean?”

Dorian scowled, his lips setting in a thin line, voice on the edge of a growl. “Who’s Kadan?!”

Bull was silent for a moment, and then he chuckled, laughed when he had absolutely no reason to, Dorian tried to pull away but Bull held him. “Hey, hey sorry for laughing, but I promise, you’ll laugh to.”

“I doubt it.” Dorian hissed.

“No, Dorian, _you’re kadan.”_

Dorian stopped trying to pull away and let his hand relax in Bull’s. “What do you mean?”

“Kadan isn’t a person, it’s a Qunari word. A, uh- I guess really it’s a term of endearment.”

“A pet name?” Dorian asked slowly.

“Yeah, I guess it can be… Dorian, it means my heart.”

“And you called me… You called me your heart? Why?”

“Why do you think?” Bull asked, and Dorian laughed, laughed and didn’t stop until the tears were streaming down his cheeks for a different reason. Bull cupped his face in his hands and kissed Dorian’s forehead, whispering into the skin, “Kadan.”

“Amatus.” Dorian breathed and he could feel Bull’s smile against his forehead.


End file.
